


Touching Redemption

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posting for archival purposes.Their ability to communicate lies not in words.
Relationships: Martin Fitzgerald/Danny Taylor
Kudos: 4





	Touching Redemption

The thing that keeps replaying in his head is the way Martin just stood there. He just fucking stood there, hurt expression on his face and pain flashing in his eyes and, God, it hurt to see. The worst part, the _worst_ part, is that Danny didn't stop and Martin just stood there. Taking Danny's words like he deserved them, like it was perfectly normal for Danny to question his loyalty. Stood there, not bothering to deny it or explain it or even chew Danny out for thinking it, he just fucking stood there and Danny hates himself.  
  
Because he was wrong --not a little wrong or slightly wrong, but completely and utterly, without a doubt, fall on his knees and beg forgiveness wrong and he still hasn't said anything.  
  
And Martin just stood there.  
  
Fuck.

He hasn't stopped thinking about it, hasn't stopped pacing or counting the steps between his front door and his couch (twenty-six) and if he wasn't such a coward he'd go over to Martin's and apologize. It's what he should have done hours ago, after they'd wrapped up another never-ending case and after the white board was clean and they were left alone for the first time since _it_ happened. He should have walked over and apologized and, hell, maybe asked if Martin wanted to get a coffee. It's not what he did and the fact that he just walked out without so much as a goodbye makes him the biggest asshole on the planet.

The problem is, he wants to trust Martin. Does trust Martin, when it counts anyway, but he's spent so long relying only on himself that it's hard to let another person in. Hard to just give up control and admit, yes, he does need someone. More precisely, he needs Martin and he's not going to question Martin _every_ time Martin smiles at Sam. It probably wouldn't be so bad if Danny had been Martin's first choice, but he wasn't and even though it's Danny's bed Martin's sleeping in these days, Danny can't help but feel like a stand-in for their _female_ coworker.

The point is probably mute because Martin's look said it all. Told Danny exactly what he needed to know and he'd never been happier to be wrong. It lasted only a minute, until Martin's hurt expression registered and now Danny has to live with the knowledge that _he_ was responsible for the sadness in Martin's eyes that never once went away.

"Fuck."

He's gathering keys and sliding on shoes before he registers what he's doing and the least he owes Martin is that apology. Because he's not about to spend the rest of the night pacing across his apartment, reliving the entire day on repeat until it eventually drives him insane. He'd much rather spend the night in Martin's bed, showing Martin just how much he trusts him and just how sorry he is for ever questioning this thing between them.

It's a plan, anyway, and when he hails a cab, he tells himself this will work. He'll see Martin and explain that he's an idiot and Martin will forgive him and they'll go back to the delicate balancing act they've been playing at for months. And maybe he'll even get up tomorrow and make Martin breakfast, pick up that coffee he likes from the deli around the corner and by tomorrow night, Sam will be nothing but a memory and Danny will have redeemed himself.

The panic doesn't set in until the cab pulls in front of Martin's building.

And now he's not certain what he's doing because the hall outside Martin's door is empty and hollow and there's a chance Martin might not even let him in. Might just send him away or worse, ignore his knocking and then Danny will have to go home and pace. Or maybe he could just stay here, sleep on the scuffed carpet in front of Martin's door and hope Martin doesn't step on him in the morning.

His knock echoes through the hall, resonating off the walls and it's too loud by far. There's movement on the other side of the door and he can almost picture Martin debating whether or not to answer the door. A few minutes pass before Danny hears the lock release and then the door's swinging open and Martin's standing there. _Standing there_. Just fucking standing there and Danny could scream.

He doesn't have words for how angry it makes him. It courses through his veins, lodging itself in his chest until he can feel it pressing against his ribcage, screaming to get out and fuck is he mad. Because Martin still looks hurt; hurt and lost like someone kicked his fucking puppy and it's Danny's fault.  
  
He's moving before he can stop himself, pushing aside the door, forcing his way in and he doesn't let Martin get out a protest. Practically attacks the other man, fusing their lips together and pushing until Martin's back hits the far wall with a resounding thud. Good, Danny thinks, because physical pain he can deal with --physical pain he knows how to avoid.

Martin seems more shocked than anything and Danny practically has to force him to start walking. Down the hall and to the bedroom and by the time they reach the bed, there's a trail of clothes running the entire length of the apartment. Martin's looking a little wide-eyed now, like he can't quite process where Danny came from, but it's better than the hurt so Danny doesn't say anything. Busies himself kissing a trail across Martin's neck, down Martin's chest and when he sinks to his knees, Martin moans.

The sound stops him and Danny forces himself to look up, make eye contact and there's apology in his eyes. Pleading too but Martin doesn't comment, just nods like this one single act can vanquish the rest of the day and Danny's fine with that. He doesn't want to remember the rest of the day, doesn't want to remember the way Martin flinched every time he entered the room and if this, just this, can fix it, he'll do it a thousand times over.

Martin still tastes like salt and musk and masculinity, but there's something else there now; desperation, love, forgiveness, and Danny wants it all. Flattens his tongue across Martin's head and laps at the small pearl of precome resting in Martin's slit. Swirls its flavor around his mouth until he's certain the taste will linger forever. And he wants it to linger, wants to wake up in the morning and still taste Martin on his tongue, still feel Martin in his mouth so that he never forgets.

Martin's babbling now, practically begging and _this_ is what Danny should have been thinking about all day. Not misunderstandings or accusations or blinding jealousy, but this, the feel of Martin in his mouth, the weight of Martin on his tongue and the way Martin's balls constrict when Danny cups them with his free hand.

Rolls them just hard enough to get a moan and a thrust and it's not enough. Too impersonal and Danny's pulling away. Ignoring Martin's questioning glance and nodding to the bed and then they're moving. Scrambling with all the grace of two inexperienced teenage boys until they land in a tangle of limbs on Martin's bed. It's better, because he wants to do this right.

Wants to stretch out across Martin's soft linen sheets, burrow himself into every inch of Martin's skin until he can no longer tell where he begins and Martin ends. Wants in a way that still frightens him and he's never been this out of control. Never given himself over to someone so completely and, in this instance, he thinks he could drown in Martin and not care.

Martin's bucking beneath him, words falling into the space around them and they don't make sense. Not in any language Danny knows, anyway, but he swallows them still, alongside Martin's breath in a kiss that rattles his teeth and curls his toes. He's sweating, slick dampness sliding down his back and pooling at the base of his spine but he doesn't care.

Doesn't care that his arms will be sore tomorrow from bracing himself on either side of Martin's head. Doesn't care about anything but the feel of Martin's tongue sliding against his own, struggling for dominance in a way that suggests Martin wants anything but. And Danny lets him, gives over everything he has because he _trusts_ Martin.

Oxygen's becoming an issues and Danny curses his need to breathe before pulling back, resting his head in the crook of Martin's neck and just panting. Breathing in the combined scent of Martin and sweat and sex. Drinking it in like it's water, pure and clean and everything he needs to survive.

And then Martin's moving, shifting and bucking and it brings Danny back into the moment. He shifts, lining their cocks up and rocking into Martin until they find a pace just this side of frantic. And it's good, but it could be better so Danny pulls back, hooking an arm under Martin's knee and pulling until Martin's legs are splayed open.  
  
For a moment, all he can do is look, catalogue Martin's flushed skin and panting breath. Take in Martin's glazed expression and dark eyes. Admire the line of Martin's cock, hard and slick and Danny runs a thumb down the underside. Back up to circle Martin's head and he's fairly certain he could come just from this. Just from watching and if Martin's whimpering is any indication, he wouldn't be far behind.

Danny breaks contact long enough to reach into Martin's side table, rifling through the drawer until he finds what he's looking for and he drops the small bottle of lube next to Martin on the bed. Settles back between Martin's legs, taking a moment to tuck one of the pillows under Martin before reaching for the bottle.

He covers his fingers in cool liquid before reaching for Martin's cock. The first stroke gets him a thrust, following by a low moan and the sound goes straight to Danny's groin. He brings his free hand up to join the one wrapped around Martin, coating two fingers and running them down Martin's length. Past his balls until he's pushing at Martin's opening, teasing for a moment and when Martin opens his eyes, Danny thrusts his fingers deep inside.

No warning or careful prep work and Martin's eyes roll into the back of his head. It occurs to Danny that this is all just a way to reaffirm his place in Martin's life. His place in Martin's bed and it's not what Danny wants. Not what they need, anyway, so he pulls his fingers free, releasing his grip on Martin's cock before climbing up the mattress.

He straddles Martin's thighs and Martin closes his eyes as Danny positions himself over Martin's cock. Martin lets out a strangled cry when Danny lowers himself down, agonizingly slow and by the time Martin's buried inside, Danny's flushed and panting and fighting to stay conscious. It hurts more than it should, but he wasn't stretched and he thinks this is the least of what he deserves.

The pain lingers only a moment and then they're moving, rocking in a rhythm older than time and Danny finds himself tracing patterns on Martin's chest. Fingers clenching and unclenching every time Martin hits that spot deep inside. The one that sets off sparks beneath his eyelids and he only just realizes he has his eyes closed. Opens them to find Martin watching him, expression weighing, measuring, like he's still trying to figure Danny out and Danny clenches around Martin's cock.

It dissolves the look, replacing it with something close to bliss but Danny's not going to analyze it. He spent too long today cataloging Martin's expressions, staring at Martin's eyes and trying to figure out what was going on in Martin's head. Here he just wants to feel. Wants nothing more than the slight burn of Martin buried inside and the occasional rush of pleasure every time Martin hits his prostate.

Martin comes first, arching back into the bed and letting out a shuddering breath as every muscle tenses. Danny stills long enough to let Martin catch his breath, and then he's moving again, sticky dampness seeping between them and when Martin wraps his hand around Danny's cock, Danny closes his eyes and comes against Martin's stomach.

For a moment, neither of them move, just bask in the afterglow and the air around them is thick with the scent of sex and lube. He's still not entirely used to doing this without a condom, and when he finally climbs off of Martin, he has to fight against the urge to seek out the shower. It can wait, until Martin's capable of joining him at least, and right now Martin doesn't seem capable of anything.

Danny slides into the space at Martin's side, curling himself against the other man and running an absent finger through the rapidly cooling mess on Martin's stomach.

"Is this your version of an apology?" Martin asks, his words soft but they sound loud in the otherwise silence.

"No. But I am sorry," Danny replies, shifting until he's on his back, the ceiling blank and impossibly far away.

"Don't do it again, okay?" Martin says, struggling to a seated position and Danny nods his agreement.

"I won't."

And it's not redemption, but it's close, closer than he ever expected, anyway. And when Martin offers him a hand, Danny takes it, letting Martin lead them into the waiting shower.


End file.
